Don't Close Your Eyes
by ColdFlame
Summary: Set 50 years after the end of FF7. Begins with the death of a member of Avalanche. Click me! Click me! Click me!


She was dead. The peaceful figure of an old woman lay sprawled across a beautiful bed of flowers. Dressed in a beautiful white robe her pale skin showed no colour. Her hands had been layed carefully on her waist. She wore a faint smile. An unsure trace of hapiness. She lay across a bed of brilliantly white tulips. Her favourite. Her usually long grey hair was tied up perfectly on her head with a few strands of her silvery-white hair fell by her cheek. Her body glowed in an eerie light. Materia had finally gotten the better of her. All those years using the powerful orbs and she had never known. Slowly they had weakened her, bit by bit, until she could stand it no more and simply gave up. She had seen all her friends die, all except one. It wasn't even human. It didn't even bother to show up for the ceremony.

The usually peaceful town of Nibelheim was awash with madness. Hundreds had turned out to see a last glimpse of their hero. Even the sun had come out from behind the clouds to see her saviour. The town was decorated in all different kinds of flowers. It seemed to be blooming. Flowers burst from every creak and crevice. Red, gold, white and blue. As far as the eye could see. Beautiful silver silk curtains were draped from house to house, until each finally met over the arch of her motionless body. 

Roughly twenty were allowed close to the body. The rest hovered awkardly outside their houses. Some watched from their high windows while others resorted to climb trees to get a better view. 

The warm summer air was filled with muffled sobs and angry tears. Others stood shocked, vacantly watching the body. Countless tears fell upon the lush green grass. The men stood tall, brooding over their loss. Their women stood beside them, their arm gripping their lovers waist, as they held a hankerchief to their face. Letting the soft white fabric clean away the tears. A few people mysty eyed friends of hers stepped forward to say a few words. Most only managed about half of their speech before falling into a fit of sobs and being gently ushered away. 

Pain was in the air that day. The day that Tifa Lockheart passed away. The pain flooded the town like a raging river. No one was left untouched. Even the infants stopped figeting and sat staring solemnly at their elders. 

In the distance a faint howl rang in their ears. 

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Outside the small villiage, a calm, tranquil river flowed peacfully from the mountains. A large blossom tree, in full bloom, sat embedded in the ground by the water. Its massive roots formed a perfect angle for sitting. A favourite spot for the townspeople, their were many proclamations of love carved into the deep bark of the ancient tree. It was the most beautiful spot for miles around. The blossom flowers fell like gentle rain from heaven. A young women sat there, only about nineteen, her dark brown hair fell easily to her waist. She wore a long black dress that looked more like it belonged at the funeral ceremony instead of here. Seeing a figure approach, she stood up wiping the tears from her eyes. 

It was a young man, probably the same age as herself. He was dressed in a black suit as he was coming from the funeral. Fairly tall and muscular for his age, he had short spikey black hair. His sleeves were pushed back up his arms as far as his elbows. 

The woman gave him a soft smile and absent-mindedly sat back down again. When he had gotten close enough to her, he went to speak but his mouth went dry. Giving up he just sat down beside her. For a while they both said nothing, each staring into the depths of the still river. Then slowly, the young woman bent her head softly on his shoulder. He stroked her long brown hair softly. Finally she gave up and began sobbing painfully into his shoulder. They were still silent. The only sound were her silent, breathless sobs. He kept staring over the horizon line. 

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By dusk the visitors to the town had already left, save the few who wiled away the night in the pub. Things were finally returning to normal. The silk drapes were taken down but the flowers remained. A few children still played football by the old water-tower. The sky soon sparkled as if the sky was on fire. A full moon crept up from behind the ragged Nibelheim mountains. 

The same young woman sat alone in her room, comfortably nestled in her bed. She clutched a silver picture frame in her hand. The picture was old and torn but that didn't matter. It showed two tall men and a young woman. The taller man had long silvery hair that fell past his waist. He clutched a long narrow sword. His face was expressionless, as always. The second man was, however, beaming. Spikey black hair, he reminded her of Rick. After taking her home from the old blossom tree he'd just said goodnight and returned home. She sighed.

The last figure in the picture was of a beautiful young woman. Her grandmother Tifa. She wore a wide-brimmed straw hat and was the essence of hapiness. Putting the picture aside she began to stare out the window. 'The stars are bright tonight.' She thought as she pressed against the cold glass pane. 

After a while she heard a soft knock on her bedroom door.

It was her mother. She was far too old and weary looking for her age. The added stress of the funeral hadn't helped either. Absent-mindedly she noticed that her mother held a small silvery box.

'Hi Leah,' her mother didn't move from the door. 'Are you okay honey?' She gave her daughter a sad smile. She nodded and went back to her star-gazing. Soon, her mother sat on the bed beside her. They started talking. About everything. Grandma, life, death, the flowers. Everything. It was almost eleven when they finally stopped. As her mother was leaving, Tifa remembered the box.

'Whats in the box?' She asked slowly. Her mother looked as if she just remembered something. 

'Of course, I forgot! Here you are honey,' She said handing it to her, ' its from your Grandma...she wanted you to have it.' Her mother finally left leaving Leah alone with the box.

Tears filled her eyes as she struggled with the lock. When she finally managed to open it she gasped in suprise. 

In the box was a small red orb glowing strangely in the moonlight. 

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Here, where the darkest shadows lurk, I await my faithful servant. Here, I am deep in slumber. Waiting in solitude for the precious crystal which will be the key to unlocking my tomb. Forever I wait, alone in this darkness. Wait, I hear my servant stirring. Soon from this torture I shall be set free.

I am the beginning of the end.

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To be continued...?

Authors note:

I'll continue this if enough people review it.PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review my fic!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


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